


We Need to Talk About Morgause

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [152]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Blackmail, Boys Kissing, Cockblocking, Corporate Espionage, Drunken Kissing, False Accusations, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Ill-Advised Rebound Sex, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Mutual Pining, Revelations, White Collar Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Arthur finally makes his move. Morgana makes a big mistake. And Merlin, ultimately, has to make a choice – but will it be Arthur?The penultimate instalment of theWe Need to Talkseries.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Arthur is still on the sofa when Merlin gets up on Friday morning, his face mashed into one of the cushions and one arm trailing along the floor. He hadn’t gone back to work the previous day, and the two of them stayed up until the early hours trying to come up with a plan of attack, only to end up in much the same position as they had been in when they started: although they now know who the mole is, they are no closer to figuring out what they should do about it, or how to go about clearing Merlin’s name.  
  
Leaning against the doorframe, Merlin takes a moment to observe his best friend-slash-boss-slash…whatever the hell they are to each other these days. He can’t deny that he’s missed Arthur’s presence in his life these past few weeks—things just haven’t been the same without someone barking ridiculous orders at him 24/7—but he’s still not sure he has entirely forgiven the man for not having his back that day in his office. Even though it now looks like someone must have hacked into Merlin’s account behind his back, it seems pretty unlikely that it could have been Edwin, and the implication that Merlin would be so careless with his work, or indeed that Edwin had only been with him for the purpose of gathering information, had stung more than he really cared to admit.  
  
Still, it’s hard to hold anything against Arthur when he’s lying there so peacefully, making little snuffling sounds into the cushion like a puppy dreaming about chasing sheep. With an amused smile, Merlin walks over to the couch and nudges him in the ribs with his knee.  
  
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he says, as Arthur groans something unintelligible and begins to stir. “You have exactly ten minutes before you’re late for work.”  
  
As predicted, this makes Arthur sit up abruptly, nearly falling off the sofa as he bolts upright. He stares at Merlin in alarm, blue eyes wide and blinking in the early morning light. “What am I—wait, what time is it?” He looks down at his wrinkled shirt and pants, an expression of panic crossing his face. “Shit, I won’t have time to go home and change—”  
  
“Arthur, relax,” Merlin interrupts, grinning. “I’m just messing with you. You’ve got plenty of time to shower and borrow one of my shirts before you have to get going.”  
  
Arthur’s eyes narrow into a glare, but with the pillow creases on his cheeks and his spectacular bed head, it’s not particularly frightening. “You are a horrible person, I hope you’re aware.”  
  
“Yes, that’s why I made you coffee.” Merlin holds out the mug in his other hand. “And there are some pancakes in the kitchen. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I might as well do something useful.”  
  
“For a change,” Arthur mutters, but he takes the coffee and downs half of it in one gulp. He grimaces, wrinkling his nose, but he looks a little more alert as he peers up into Merlin’s face. “Thank you. For letting me crash here last night, I mean. And for the coffee.” He smiles lopsidedly, and right on cue a familiar flock of butterflies shivers to life in Merlin’s stomach, swirling up inside his ribcage and into his throat. “I appreciate it.”  
  
“Any time.” Merlin shrugs, turning away to hide his expression. So much for distance curing him of his Arthur obsession. How dare someone be that attractive first thing in the morning? “I’ll go and find you something to wear while you have breakfast. Be right back.”  
  
When he returns a few minutes later, however, fresh shirt and tie in hand, Arthur is still sitting where Merlin left him, elbows braced his knees and both hands wrapped around the coffee mug as though in supplication. Merlin drops the clothes on the end of the couch and Arthur looks over at him, his expression bleak.  
  
“I’m going to have to confront her, aren’t I?”  
  
Merlin doesn’t bother to ask who he’s talking about. “It does seem like only way of finding out the truth,” he says, and Arthur lets out a long sigh.  
  
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”  
  
“Look at it this way.” Merlin takes the cup out of Arthur’s hands and puts it on the coffee table, sitting down on the sofa next to him. “At least then you’ll finally know what’s going on. Once everything is out in the open, you can decide what you’re going to do about it.”  
  
“That’s just it.” Arthur scrubs a hand through his hair. “If it turns out that we’re right, and it _is_ Morgana who’s been doing this—there’s not going to be much that I can do. At the very least, she’s going to get fired. Maybe even prosecuted. And my father will never forgive her.”  
  
“You don’t know that.” True, Uther isn’t exactly known for his forgiving nature, but Morgana is his daughter, and the man dotes on her. If nothing else, he’ll want to keep her out of jail. “Maybe she has good reason for what she’s been doing, or this whole thing is just a big misunderstanding. She’s your sister—surely she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your father on purpose.”  
  
“I don’t know…she can be pretty ruthless when she wants to be. It just—it doesn’t make sense. She seemed genuinely shocked when we found out what was going on. And then, that day in my office…” His voice trails off, so Merlin picks up the thread of it for him.  
  
“The day you accused me of being the spy, you mean? Yes, she did seem rather adamant that I wasn’t the culprit.”  
  
Arthur has the grace to wince.  
  
“We both were,” he says. “I told you, I never thought you would do something like that deliberately. But Edwin could have stolen your password, and we needed to be sure.”  
  
“Right.” Merlin purses his lips. “Well, in any case, Morgana deserves the chance to defend herself, and you obviously need to know the extent of her involvement before you can come up with a plan of action, so I’d say talking to her is your only option at this point.”  
  
Arthur just nods, staring at the empty coffee cup as though it holds the secret to life, the universe, and everything, and the look on his face is so utterly miserable that it tugs at Merlin’s heartstrings in spite of himself. He sighs. Irritating though Arthur might be, there’s no way Merlin can just sit back and let him go through all this alone.  
  
Getting to his feet, he picks up the shirt and tie from where he had left them and hands them to Arthur, who takes them with a faintly bemused expression, as though he has somehow forgotten what they are for.  
  
“Go. Shower. Dress,” Merlin says, pointing towards the bathroom. “I’ll wrap up some of those pancakes while you get changed, and then we can get going.”  
  
“We?”  
  
“Yes, we,” Merlin confirms, unable to hold back a smile when Arthur’s face lights up at the word. “I’m coming with you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to see people are still reading this! Pretty sure the outcome of this chapter will shock exactly zero people, but I promise there are still some more twists and turns to come ;) Hope you enjoy!

 

The lift inside the Pendragon building is mercifully empty when they arrive, which is understandable considering the early hour. Only the most enthusiastic of employees is likely to be there at half seven in the morning, and it’s a good thing that Morgana is as much of a workaholic as her brother—the product of being related to Uther, Merlin assumes—otherwise, they might have to wait a while for her to show up.  
  
“You okay?” Merlin asks, as he and Arthur step into the elevator together. Arthur flashes him a quick smile and nods, drawing in an audible breath before pressing the button for their floor. He looks the same way that he usually does when he’s about to enter the boardroom or talk to his father: cool, confident, and collected, which is how Merlin knows that he’s nervous as hell.  
  
“It’s going to be fine,” he says, resting a hand on Arthur’s arm and giving it a squeeze. “I promise.”  
  
“You can’t promise that,” Arthur mutters back, but the rigidity of his stance seems to loosen a bit, and when the doors slide open, disgorging them into the nearly deserted office, he hesitates for a moment and says softly, “I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.”  
  
It’s strange being back at PE after so long; stranger still to enter a room that is usually so noisyonly to find it virtually empty, inhabited only by a handful of industrious souls. A man Merlin doesn’t recognise is dusting fussily at Arthur’s desk, which is more immaculate than Merlin has ever seen it. He looks up as the two of them pass, and Merlin gives him an awkward smile and a wave, which the man—Arthur’s new assistant?—does not return. Right. Organised _and_ self-important. Arthur must love him.  
  
Morgana’s office door is open, bright fluorescent light spilling into the hallway, and this time Arthur doesn’t hesitate before knocking briskly on the doorframe and stepping inside. Merlin follows suit, pulling the door gently closed behind him. It wouldn’t do for Mr Efficient out there to overhear their conversation.  
  
“Arthur!” Morgana says, sounding surprised. Her gaze travels over to Merlin, and her eyebrows rise even higher. “And Merlin, too. To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
“I need to talk to you,” Arthur says curtly. “Do you have a minute?”  
  
“I have several minutes, but I’m not sure I want to waste them on the likes of you.” Morgana’s eyes narrow, and she glances back and forth between the two of them. “Arthur, why are you wearing Merlin’s shirt?”  
  
“Because I slept in mine,” Arthur says, waving a hand dismissively. “Morgana, this is important.”  
  
Morgana leans back in her chair, and for the first time that Merlin can recall, she actually looks tired.  
  
“Let me guess,” she says wearily. “This has something to do with whoever’s been leaking our files to Essetir, doesn’t it?”  
  
Merlin and Arthur exchange glances.  
  
“What makes you think that?” Arthur asks cautiously, and Morgana fixes him with a withering stare.  
  
“You’re here with Merlin,” she says. “The man who is currently suspected of being the mole, and who has been banned from the building since all of this began. It isn't a particularly difficult leap to conclude that you must have found out something new.” She smirks. “Besides, you’ve been acting squirrelly all week. I’ve always been able to tell when you were up to something.”  
  
“Right.” Arthur looks flustered for a moment, and Merlin almost wishes the situation weren’t quite so serious—he’s always enjoyed watching the two siblings squabble. “Well, yes, that is what this is about. You see…” He pauses and looks at Merlin, who gives him an encouraging nod. “We know it was you.”  
  
“You know what was me?” Morgana asks blankly.  
  
“We know you’re the mole,” Arthur says. His voice doesn’t waver, but Merlin can see the tension in the way he holds himself, and has to resist the urge to reach out and touch him for moral support. Morgana is staring at them both, her lips slightly parted, hands poised in the act of fiddling with her pen.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
“We did some investigating,” Arthur tells her doggedly, “Gwen and Gwaine and I, and we set a trap, something that would tempt the mole into accessing the company server when they weren’t supposed to. And do you know what we found?”  
  
Morgana huffs out a breath. “Obviously not,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “Are you seriously suggesting—?”  
  
“It was Merlin’s ID.” Arthur cuts across her, and she falls silent. “But since Merlin didn’t even know about the deal to begin with, he couldn’t have been the one who tried to access the files. And there was something else.”  
  
He goes on to tell her about the fake background they’d made up, the one that only she had been privy to, and Merlin watches her face as he talks, trying to work out what she must be thinking. There’s something off about her expression—she looks shocked, but not completely, her brows drawn together as though she’s remembering something she’d rather not think about.  
  
When Arthur has finished his summary, laying out their reasons for suspecting her in clear, concise detail, Morgana leans back in her chair and lets out her breath, not quite meeting her brother’s eyes.  
  
“So, that’s it, then,” she says, her voice quiet. “Are you going to tell Father?”  
  
Arthur doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Why did you do it?” he asks finally. “Was it for money? Spite? Or did you just wake up one morning and think, what the hell, why don’t I betray the trust of my entire family?”  
  
Morgana looks away, her mouth tightening. “Something like that,” she says. There is something so alike about the two of them, one sitting, one standing, both frozen in postures of anger and regret, that it makes Merlin’s chest hurt a little. He can only imagine what Arthur must be feeling. “Was that all?”  
  
Merlin can see Arthur’s mouth contort—he’s obviously holding himself back from saying something ugly. But then his eyes are drawn back to Morgana’s face, her stillness. It’s like she’s waiting for something—but for what?  
  
“We’re done here,” Arthur says, his tone laden with disgust. “Come on, Merlin.”  
  
He turns on his heel and makes a beeline for the door, his back ramrod straight, his jaw set. But Merlin doesn’t follow after him, his gaze still on Morgana.  
  
“Wait,” he says suddenly, and Arthur stops. “She didn’t do it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Morgana pushes back her chair, half rising to her feet. “Don’t be stupid, Merlin,” she says, oddly high-pitched. “Of course I did it. You heard what Arthur said. It has to have been me.”  
  
“Right,” Merlin says. “Except that doesn’t make sense, does it? Why use a suspended employee's account to gather information? You’re a smart woman. Why wouldn't you do a better job of covering your tracks?”  
  
“Because,” Morgana says, looking wildly between them. “Because I—”  
  
“Mor _gana_ ,” Arthur warns, and she closes her eyes.  
  
“Fine. No, it wasn’t me,” she says. Her fingernails tap nervously against the desktop: once, twice. She opens her eyes. “It was Morgause.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

“The thing is,” Morgana says, taking a deep breath. “Morgause is our sister. Well. Half-sister. Apparently, Uther got his girlfriend pregnant while they were at university, and she was the result.”  
  
“Our sister!?” Arthur drops the paperweight he’s been holding and stares at her. “You’ve been sleeping with our _sister_?”  
  
“What? _No_ , gross, Arthur.” Morgana wrinkles her nose. “We’ve been spending time together, that’s all. You know, hanging out. Sisterly bonding?” She looks from Arthur to Merlin and back again, then seems to decide that Merlin is the more rational of the two and turns towards him. “She reached out to me a few months ago saying she wanted to meet me, and, well, I couldn’t see any reason to refuse. She asked a lot of questions—about Arthur, Uther, what we do at work, that kind of thing—but I genuinely thought she just wanted to get to know me. It never occurred to me that she might have an ulterior motive.”  
  
She sighs, running a hand through her hair, and Merlin feels a twinge of sympathy. For all the trouble she’s caused, Merlin is pretty sure Morgana didn’t do it on purpose, and he knows only too well what it feels like to be deceived by someone you love.  
  
“I didn’t even realise she was involved at first,” Morgana goes on. “Of course, I knew you hadn’t done it, Merlin—the day you betray Arthur is the day piglets get their wings. But if what you say is true, then Morgause is the only other person who could have passed along that information. She must be the mole.”  
  
“But— _why_?” Picking up the paperweight again, Arthur begins to pace, tossing it from one hand to the other as he walks. “She doesn’t even work for Essetir. Why would she want to help them?”  
  
“Revenge,” Morgana says simply. “She’s—she’s really angry at Father. She says he was the one who insisted on giving her up for adoption.”  
  
“Was he?”  
  
“How would I know? All I know is what she’s told me.” Morgana shakes her head. “She must have gotten Merlin’s details from my laptop at some point and used them to set him up.” The corners of her lips turn down. “I’m sorry, Merlin. I should never have trusted her.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.” Merlin glances over at Arthur. He has stopped moving now and is leaning against one of Morgana’s bookshelves, scowling at the floor, but Merlin can tell he’s listening. “We’ve all trusted someone we shouldn’t at one point or another. And she’s your sister—you couldn’t have known she’d pull something like this.”  
  
“Still…” Morgana is studying Arthur too, her mouth set in an unhappy line. “She’s been getting even pushier lately, especially since that Smith woman came by, but I didn’t think—” She cuts herself off. “I was stupid. I should have told you about her ages ago, but she said not to.”  
  
“She knew you trusted her, and she took advantage,” Arthur says, his voice quiet. “That’s on her, not you.”  
  
He sounds like he means it, and Merlin doesn’t have to ask to know that he’s thinking about Sophia, and maybe about Edwin, too. Morgana’s expression softens.  
  
“Arthur…”  
  
“No. Merlin was right,” Arthur says firmly, straightening up. “And you know how rarely I say that. We’ve all trusted someone we shouldn’t have, and it sucks. The question now is what we’re going to do about it. We can’t let Morgause get away with this.”  
  
Morgana starts to speak again, then stops and turns back to her computer, entering a few rapid keystrokes to bring something up on her screen. “I think I know how we can stop her, actually.”  
  
“Really? How?” Arthur peers over her shoulder, frowning as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. Merlin hides a smile behind his hand. Arthur never was very good with computers. “What is this, anyway?”  
  
“It's a letter to Santa,” Morgana deadpans, sounding a lot more like her usual self. “What do you think it is?” She tosses her hair back and looks at him, her trademark smirk once more firmly in place. “Morgause may have stolen information from us, but I’ve also learned a thing or two about her. When she first surfaced, I had George run a background check to make sure she was who she said she was. Maybe we can use that to track her down and clear Merlin’s name.”  
  
Arthur just blinks at her, apparently too surprised to speak, but Merlin leans forward in his seat.  
  
“Morgana, you’re brilliant,” he says sincerely. “Where do we start?”  


 

  
+

  
  
By the time they leave Morgana’s office, it’s already well into the regular workday, but for once Arthur seems to have other things on his mind.  
  
“Come on,” he says, tugging Merlin away from his desk and towards the elevator. “While Morgana’s doing her part, there are a few people I want you to meet.”   
  
“Okay.” Merlin trails after him, watching Arthur closely out of the corner of his eye. It’s not every day you find out that you have a secret half-sibling stashed away somewhere, let alone that she’s been selling family secrets to your company's rivals behind your back. This is the stuff of soap operas, and knowing Arthur, Merlin is willing to bet he’s not half as cool about the whole thing as he’s trying to pretend.  
  
“So,” he says finally, nudging Arthur in the ribs as the two of them stand waiting for the lift. “Your dad sure got around, huh.”  
  
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur replies testily, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about my father’s sex life right now.”  
  
“Do you _ever_ want to talk about your father’s sex life?” Merlin asks. Arthur shoves him sideways in response, and Merlin staggers, grinning. “Prat.”  
  
“Idiot.”  
  
“Dollophead.”  
  
“Still not a word, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur reminds him, but he’s smiling, and best of all he’s _touching_ Merlin again, both things that Merlin has been forced to do without for far too long. “You really need to work on your vocabulary.”  
  
“And you need to work on your people skills,” Merlin says. “Didn’t you notice your assistant has been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes?”  
  
“Oh, Christ.” Arthur groans, dragging Merlin after him as the elevator dings. “Hurry up, or he’ll start haranguing me about my filing system.”  
  
Obediently, Merlin hits the ‘door close’ button with his thumb, and the next moment he has the pleasure of watching Mr Efficient’s well-organised grimace as the lift shuts neatly in his face.  
  
Merlin: 1. Imposter: 0.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Merlin! It’s good to see you.” Gwaine greets him with a hug, thumping Merlin on the back before ushering him inside. “Arthur didn’t mention he’d be bringing you—but then, he has a habit of leaving out important information.”  
  
He stares at Arthur meaningfully as he speaks, but Arthur just shrugs. “I was in a hurry,” he says, toeing off his shoes. “Besides, you’d already done your part.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean we weren’t dying to know what you found out.” A dark-skinned woman with short-cropped black hair comes into the living room, pushing a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles up her nose. She folds her arms and glares at Arthur. “Fortunately for you, Gwaine already worked out who it was, or else I wouldn’t have let you back in the house.”  
  
“Sorry, Gwen.” Arthur actually sounds contrite this time, and Merlin raises his eyebrows. He likes this Gwen person already. “How did you figure it out? Merlin’s username is confidential.”  
  
“I know. But why else would you go haring off as though the devil were after you?” Gwaine winks at Merlin, who is amused to see Arthur scowl in response. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. A little birdy whispered in my ear that you were in need of some knights in shining armour?”  
  
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Arthur grumbles. “But yes, I— _we_ do need your help, if you don’t mind.”  
  
He explains the idea that he, Morgana, and Merlin had come up with that morning in Morgana’s office. On the face of it, the plan is simple: Morgana will meet with Morgause for lunch, as usual, and this time, instead of putting her off when she starts talking about Pendragon Enterprises, Morgana will casually let slip that she’s had an argument with her father—something that would be highly plausible, she had assured them, given what Morgause knew of her and Uther’s relationship—and is looking for another job, should anything just happen to come her way. Ideally, Morgause will jump at the opportunity to get her on side, and either attempt to recruit her as a member of Essetir, or perhaps persuade her to remain at PE as a spy. Either way, Arthur and the others will be listening in via her phone, recording the discussion in secret.  
  
“Why can’t Morgana just record the conversation herself?” Gwen asks, frowning. “Surely that would be easier.”  
  
“Probably,” Arthur agrees. “But Morgause is a bit of a wild card. I’m sure Morgana can handle herself, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. If she calls me instead, Morgause won’t be able to get her hands on the recording, and we’ll know straight away if something goes wrong.”  
  
“You do realise that any evidence you collect may end up being ruled inadmissible in court,” Gwaine points out, ever the lawyer. Arthur nods his head.  
  
“I thought about that. But honestly, I don’t care about prosecuting her so much as I want to convince my father that Merlin’s innocent.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Gwaine looks at Gwen. “What do you say, short stuff?”  
  
Gwen blushes, biting her lip, then darts an uncomfortable look at Merlin. “Of course we’ll help,” she says, after a pause. “But I’m doubling my fee, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur holds up his hands. “Fine by me,” he says, also looking at Merlin. He smiles crookedly. “I told you, money’s no object.”  
  
“That’s settled, then,” Gwaine says briskly, before Merlin can do more than flush with surprise. “Come on, you lot; follow me.”  
  
He leads the three of them down a long hallway and into the kitchen, where they are greeted by another young man in grey track pants and a t-shirt that reads, _Always be yourself—unless you can be Batman, in which case, always be Batman_. Merlin grins.  
  
“Merlin, this is Elyan. Elyan, Merlin.” Gwaine introduces them. “Elyan is Gwen’s brother.”  
  
“Nice to meet you.” Merlin and Elyan shake hands, and Merlin takes a seat beside Gwaine, feeling a bit superfluous as Arthur and the two computer experts start putting their plan into action. He’s not really sure why Arthur brought him along, except perhaps to throw him in Gwaine’s path again, which is kind of awkward considering the two of them are clearly never going to be anything but friends.  
  
“So, how are you holding up?” Gwaine asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles beneath the table. “It’s good to see you out and about again. Arthur tell you what’s been going on?”  
  
“Yeah, he’s brought me up to speed.” Merlin shrugs, looking down at his hands. “Thanks for helping with this, Gwaine. It means a lot.”  
  
“Any time.” Gwaine nudges him with one foot. “Cheer up, mate. If this all goes to plan, your name will be cleared and you’ll be back working under Blondie over there in no time.” He waggles his eyebrows and leers. “If you know what I mean.”  
  
Merlin smiles faintly, but it’s more wistful than amused. In another life, the two of them would have been good together, he thinks, but it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that Gwen and Gwaine have some kind of history; the same sort that he and Arthur have, if he’s any judge. Unlike Arthur, however, at least Gwen seems like she’d be interested in taking things further, if Gwaine ever actually asked.  
  
“Actually,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t think I’m going to go back, after this is over.”  
  
Gwaine’s eyebrows go up. “You’re quitting?” he asks, too loudly. Merlin winces, but it’s too late to ask him to keep it down; breaking off his conversation with the others, Arthur turns towards them with a frown, having obviously overheard Gwaine’s remark.  
  
“What are you talking about?” he asks, straightening up to stare at Merlin. “Merlin isn’t quitting. Are you, Merlin?”  
  
“I—well, I think it’s for the best, Arthur,” Merlin says, glancing quickly at Gwaine and then away again. Gwen and Elyan have turned to look at him too, and he can feel his cheeks going red as he realises he’s made himself the centre of attention. “Uther is never going to trust me again, and I don’t think anyone else will, either, even after we prove it wasn’t me who stole those files. Besides,” he adds, when Arthur opens his mouth to protest. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot since your father suspended me, and I really don’t feel comfortable working for a man who is willing to fire me over something I didn’t do. It’s time for me to move on.”  
  
Arthur shuts his mouth, a look of hurt flashing briefly across his face before smoothing away.  
  
“I see,” he says, looking down. “Well, I’ll make sure you receive a glowing reference, of course. Even if you are a frankly terrible assistant.”  
  
“Thanks.” Merlin smiles a little. “You’re a horrible boss, but I’m sure your word will count for something.”  
  
Arthur doesn’t smile back, and Merlin tries to catch his eye, wanting to reassure him that they will still be friends after he’s gone—that they’ll be even better friends once Merlin figures out how to stop mooning over him all the time. But he can’t say that in front of Gwaine and the others, and in any case Arthur is already turning away.  
  
“We should probably finish setting up,” he tells Gwen and Elyan, jerking his head towards the laptop. “Morgana will be on her way to meet Morgause for lunch soon, and I want to test the equipment before we get started.”  
  
“Of course.” Taking his cue, Gwen turns back to the screen again and starts fiddling with one of the programmes, so obviously ignoring the tension that it’s almost comical. “Just let me fix up these audio settings and we’ll be good to go.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

When the phone rings, they’re ready. Gwen presses the record button on her laptop screen just as Arthur hits Talk, and the five of them hold their collective breath as an unfamiliar voice fills the room.  
  
“—lways good to see you, sister,” a woman—Merlin assumes it must be Morgause—is saying, sounding tinny and strange through the speakerphone. There’s a click as Morgana sets her mobile down on the table, then a scrape of chair legs against wood as she takes a seat. “You know how I enjoy spending time with you.”  
  
“And I with you,” Morgana replies. “You have no idea what a relief it is to spend time with someone who actually listens to me when I talk, unlike certain other people I could mention.”  
  
There’s a pause, then Morgause says, “Trouble with your father again?”  
  
“When isn’t there?” Morgana is a consummate actress; she sounds genuinely angry and frustrated to Merlin's ears. “He’s still doing his best to have Merlin arrested, no matter what Arthur and I do to try and stop him.”  
  
“That’s terrible.” A clink of cutlery—or is Morgause playing with her water glass? “And you’re both certain that Merlin isn’t responsible?”  
  
“Of course we are!” Merlin smiles as Morgana rises to his defence, sounding surprised that Morgause would even consider another alternative. “I told you, Merlin would never betray Arthur like that—it has to have been somebody else, but Father just won’t listen.”  
  
Morgause makes an indistinct noise, as though irritated, and Merlin can imagine the depths of her frustration. It must have taken some effort to set him up as the scapegoat for her various misdeeds; how infuriating, then, to have her plans foiled by something so simple as his friendship with Arthur, a factor that she apparently had not foreseen.  
  
“No doubt you know best,” she says finally, her tone careful. “Although—perhaps, if their romance ended badly, it might have changed Merlin’s feelings towards him? Love can make us do strange things, and spurned love the strangest of all.”  
  
Now it’s Morgana’s turn to go quiet. “What are you talking about?” she asks. “Merlin and Arthur aren’t dating.”  
  
“Oh, I thought you knew.” A breath. Merlin looks at Arthur, who is staring fixedly at his phone, the back of his neck turning red. “I saw them together at the Masquerade Ball. Or rather, I saw Arthur, coming out of one of the rooms by himself after you and Merlin left. He looked rather dishevelled; I confess, I assumed you found the two of them together.”  
  
Across the table, Merlin sees Gwaine’s eyebrows shoot up. _You never told me about that_ , he mouths, glancing over at Arthur. _So that’s why you looked so flustered when I saw you, Princess._  
  
_Shut up_ , Merlin mouths back, catching his eye, but Gwaine just grins obnoxiously, giving him a thumbs up. In front of Merlin, Arthur appears to have turned into a statue—a very pink, very determined-to-ignore-Merlin statue, his head bent as though he were listening intently to Morgana and noticed nothing else. Merlin bites his lip.  
  
“—all the more reason why Merlin could never have done it,” Morgana is saying, valiantly doing her best to get the conversation back on track. “He’s not the sort of person who would betray a friend just to get back at them. My father, on the other hand…”  
  
To everyone’s relief, Morgause takes the bait, and allows Morgana to steer her once more onto the topic of Uther’s many flaws—a subject she seems to know a great deal about, for someone who has never even met the man in person. Somehow, Merlin gets the feeling that Morgana is enjoying her role just a little too much, and, unthinking, his hand finds its way to Arthur’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. Arthur has always hated it when Morgana airs her grievances in public.  
  
At length, Morgana’s meal arrives, and both women pause to thank the server as they settle in to enjoy their food. The conversation trails off into brief exchanges, most of them related to the quality of the cooking, and the five listeners glance at one another. Has Morgana forgotten the rest of their plan? It almost seems like she’s decided to let the subject go, but they don’t have nearly enough information to prove Morgause’s involvement. On the contrary, Merlin has no doubt that Uther would agree with her suggestion about his motivation, and point to Merlin's feelings for Arthur as further evidence of his guilt. As though reading his mind, Arthur raises a hand to grasp at Merlin’s fingers, hard, holding on tight as the five of them wait for something to happen.  
  
As always, Morgana doesn’t disappoint.  
  
“There’s nothing else for it,” she announces suddenly, as though she’s been thinking about this the whole time and just now come to a decision. “I’m going to have to leave. I can’t work there any longer.”  
  
“Leave Pendragon Enterprises?” Morgause is alert at once, her voice sharp. “I thought you said that would never happen.”  
  
“Well, I was wrong.” They can hear Morgana push back her chair, the table rattling, and then a series of muffled clunks as she gathers up her things. “Perhaps if I quit, Father will have to take me seriously. At least I won’t have to put up with his temper tantrums anymore.”  
  
“Wait, Morgana.” Morgause sounds closer, somehow, as though she’s leaned over to catch her sister’s arm, bringing her mouth nearer to the microphone. “Think this through. I don’t think leaving PE right now would be a good idea.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because.” She lowers her voice, but the words still come through the speakers loud and clear. “What if your father decides to take it as an admission of guilt? Maybe he’ll try to have you arrested along with Merlin.”  
  
“He wouldn’t dare,” Morgana says, but Merlin thinks he can hear a sliver of uncertainty beneath the confidence. She really is a very good liar. “He knows Arthur would never stand for it.”  
  
“Maybe he wouldn’t care.” Merlin can almost hear Morgause’s shrug. “You said it yourself—he’s prone to jumping to conclusions. And given the evidence…”  
  
Arthur’s grip on Merlin’s hand is painful. “What evidence?” Morgana asks, sounding just the right mixture of confused and frightened. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Oh, Morgana.” There’s a warm, playful note in Morgause’s voice that is entirely at odds with her words. “Don’t tell me you haven’t worked it out by now. You were right: your precious Merlin isn’t the mole.” A pause, as though she’s smiling. “You are.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Gwaine punches the air, and Arthur clutches Merlin’s hand so tightly, he thinks he can hear the bones crack. He hadn’t been expecting this: for Morgause to blatantly attempt to _blackmail_ Morgana. She’s pretty much just served them up the entire conspiracy on a plate.  
  
“What do you mean, I’m the mole?” Morgana asks. “I think I’d know if I were leaking information about my own company.”  
  
“Would you?” Morgause replies. “What did you _think_ you were doing during our little chats, sister dear?”  
  
Morgana, being Morgana, has a few choice things to say to that, the kindest of which is a suggestion that Morgause’s actual parentage must have been of reptilian ancestry. Morgause seems to find this funny, as she then goes on to explain exactly how she used Morgana’s access codes to obtain the details she needed, including those necessary for setting Merlin up.  
  
“That’s all we need,” Gwen whispers, smiling. “I’ll wait until she’s finished, then disconnect the call.”  
  
Morgause is still talking, however, when another sound interrupts them, blaring across the conversation and making everyone jump.  
  
_Badelaada-badelaada-badelaada-ba!_  
  
“What the hell is that?” Morgause demands. “Is that your phone?”  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” Merlin hisses, fumbling in his pocket. “Fuck, I thought I turned it off—”  
  
_Badelaada-badelaada-badelaada-ba!_  
  
Merlin mutes the phone with clumsy fingers, holding his breath; the others remain frozen as Morgana says,  
  
“—don’t know, Arthur must have changed the ringtone—”  
  
“You’re lying,” Morgause says coldly. “Let me see it.”  
  
“Honestly, Morgause, it’s nothing—”  
  
The sound of a scuffle comes over the speakers—Arthur stands up abruptly, as though he could somehow interfere—then something shatters, and they hear Morgana’s voice swearing furiously just before the line goes dead.  
  
All five of them look at one another, stunned.  
  
“Well, that went well,” Gwaine says brightly. “Who wants a drink?”

 

 

 

  
+

 

  
  
Morgause is arrested in the end; Morgana calls them back a few hours later to confirm it, sounding extremely pleased with herself. The others launch an impromptu party to celebrate, sharing around some of Gwen and Elyan’s beer and sending out for pizza, and once the dancing starts, Merlin decides to leave them to it. He ducks out onto the balcony, sitting with his legs hanging over the traffic below, and is only a little surprised when Arthur follows him out a few minutes later.  
  
“So, who was calling you, anyway?” he asks, leaning against the railing. “Someone rich and famous offering you a job as their personal secretary?”  
  
Merlin laughs. “Not as such, no,” he says. “It was Edwin. Apparently, he has a new number, and he’s still trying his best to win me back.”  
  
Arthur makes a face. “Prick,” he says, sitting down beside Merlin. He dangles his feet out into empty space, swinging them a little to hook around Merlin’s ankles. “I spoke to my father, by the way. He’s agreed to drop the investigation and give you your job back, if that’s what you want.”  
  
“That’s great,” Merlin says. “But I meant what I said. I don’t think I can face going back there.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Not your fault.”  
  
“It sort of is,” Arthur says, shrugging. “I mean, he’s my father. I should have—I don’t know, threatened to resign in protest or something. Morgana would have gone for it.”  
  
“And then you’d both have been out of a job, meaning there would’ve been no one left to clear my name,” Merlin points out. “So it’s a good thing you didn’t.”  
  
“Still.” Arthur studies his beer intently. “If I had, maybe you wouldn’t feel like you have to leave.”  
  
Merlin is silent. It’s not as though he _wants_ to leave Arthur; it’s going to be hell not seeing him every day the way he’s used to. But he’s pretty sure it’s the right thing to do, and not just because it’s awkward being attracted to his boss. He needs to put all this behind him, and he can’t do that if he stays at PE.  
  
“At least you’ll have Gwaine for company, though,” Arthur goes on after a moment. “Maybe he knows someone who’s looking for a PA. You guys would work well together.”  
  
“Or not,” Merlin says, wincing. “We’ve both decided we’d be better off as friends.”  
  
“Oh.” There’s another pause, and although Merlin does his best to read Arthur’s expression, he can’t tell what the other man is thinking. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Merlin snorts. “Two apologies in one night,” he says, knocking their shoulders together. “You must be drunk.”  
  
“And you’re deflecting.” Arthur kicks him gently. “Is that why you came out here? To hide?”  
  
“No.” Arthur looks beautiful in the low light, the shadows playing up the angles of his face, and Merlin aches. It’s a stupid time to be having this kind of epiphany—and he can’t even call it an epiphany, can he, since it’s come on so slowly—but he’s pretty sure his feelings have nothing to do with Gwaine. “Okay, kind of. I guess I was hoping my skills might have improved.”  
  
His eyes meet Arthur’s, then, and his breath catches. Arthur is watching him with the same expression that he’d had the night of the masquerade, lust and longing and a little bit of something else, and it is the impulse of a moment for Merlin to lean closer—to let his gaze drift to Arthur’s mouth—  
  
He’s intending—he’s not sure what he’s intending, exactly, but he has an excuse ready if Arthur pulls away, a half-formed thought about drunkenness and celebrations and last times for everything. But Arthur doesn’t back off—instead, he matches the movement, catching on in time to meet Merlin’s lips with his. His hands come up to cup Merlin’s face, the beer bottle abandoned somewhere behind him, and Merlin sighs into his mouth, pressing forward into the embrace with impunity until a loud wolf-whistle startles them both apart.  
  
“About bloody time,” Gwaine says from above, sticking his head out the open window. “I hate to interrupt you boys, but Morgana’s here and she wants to talk to you. Something about pressing charges against Morgause?”  
  
“We’ll be right there,” Merlin says, unable to look away from Arthur. “Just—give us a minute.”  
  
“I don't know, I’m not sure a minute will be long enough for what you’re planning.” Gwaine smirks. “Need I remind you that public indecency is frowned upon in our society?”  
  
“Fuck off, Gwaine,” Arthur grumbles, but he’s already helping Merlin to his feet. “We’ll talk later, okay?” he murmurs, squeezing Merlin's arm, and Merlin just has time to nod before Morgana descends upon them, flush with the details of her success.

 


End file.
